


The Lead

by littlefoxfires



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dad!Bellamy, F/M, I fail at fluff, I try fluff, Matchmaking, Mom!Clarke, sort of a long drabble or a ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 14:02:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6959974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlefoxfires/pseuds/littlefoxfires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His son is a manipulative little shit, and if Bellamy didn't completely love him, he totally wouldn’t even hang out with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lead

**Author's Note:**

> So, I'm getting back into writing again, and this was an unfinished idea sitting in my computer. So. I guess I just wanted Bellamy to have a smart aleck kid.

Bellamy is eighteen when he has a kid with long-legged, long-haired Roma. She was all tempting fire when he met her, so angular and pretty, statuesque, welcoming. Their romance was short lived, and more than half a year later, she gave birth to his child. 

It’s not an ideal situation, by any means, and at first Bellamy doesn’t even think it’s his. Which sounds completely shitty, but really. He has doubts. But then he holds a squealing little boy and he knows. Then, there is no doubt in his mind.

His mother (and Roma’s parents) are crying, and Octavia, thirteen, wide-eyed, looks over his shoulder and touches a trembling finger to the baby’s tiny hand. He’s reminded of holding _her_ for the first time, not knowing what he was doing. But, suddenly, he thinks that though he might be young, he might also turn out to be a really fucking good dad.

Roma’s parents had long-wanted Bellamy to marry their daughter, but Jesus. He was only eighteen, and he doesn’t even _like_ Roma. It sucks, and yeah, she’s the mother of his child but at the time she was just a girl that he occasionally had sex with. He barely knew her. So he refused. 

And when asked to sign over his parental rights, he refused again, this time more more rude, with his mom to his right spitting fire.

He wants the little kid. He really does. When the day breaks he’s still holding him in his arms and smiling and his mother is next to him, still trying to stifle her happy tears. 

\---

Raising him isn’t easy. Alexander is fussy, attention-seeking (okay, even for a baby) and when he isn’t with Roma’s parents, he’s at the tiny apartment in Brooklyn Bellamy shares with his mother and sister. He’s in college, now, but can only take so many classes, because he works constantly, helping out with baby expenses and Octavia (who is only fourteen, still a kid herself).

But, Alex is cute. Really fucking cute. He laughs in that baby way that Bellamy knows is really carefree, because he doesn’t know how hard the world is, all he knows is that the jingle of keys is really cool and that the faces his aunt is making are fucking hilarious. 

The kid has a family. Two, in fact. Because despite sharing a child, Bellamy wants nothing to do with the trainwreck that is Roma. For all intents and purposes, the girl is beautiful. Really attractive. But she’s sort of a terrible mother, and when Alex is about five years old she disappears. Bellamy excuses himself from class one day, because Octavia usually texts him during class when she’s bored, but never calls unless something is wrong, like she needs to be picked up from school after getting in a fight, something like that.

He hears Roma has disappeared into thin air. Like. Vanished. And there’s a note left that says, simply, “Sorry.”

_Sorry._

Roma up and disappears, leaves a note that reads, “Sorry.”

Bitch.

The kid cries when Bellamy tells him the news. It’s really heartbreaking, and Bellamy holds his son in his arms, strokes his dark hair. Months after he is born, no one even questions whether Alex is his son because he has the same dark hair, same nose. Oddly enough, his eyes are Bellamy’s sister’s and mother’s hazel green. Must be some sort of recessive gene.

After months and months of a legal battle gains him sole custody of his son, and they move to a tiny apartment. 

\---

 Xander is eight when he decides he wants a sibling. 

“Excuse me?” Bellamy asks, actually a little offended, for some reason.

“Like, a sister. Like you and Auntie O,” he says, as if this should be obvious.

Bellamy narrows his eyes at his son, who, at eight, is extremely intelligent. Definitely too smart for his own good. He’s never had the talk with him. Does he know where babies come from? Bellamy probably found out too soon, hence his offspring looking intelligently at him from across their dining room table, hands folding in front of him like he’s at a business meeting.

Bellamy moves his plate up and does the same, “That’s not how it works, kid.”

“'S okay, you don’t have to do anything, I already pretty much have one. I’m just letting you know so it’s not weird when I hang out with her. Like, when we do big brother and little sister stuff.”

What the _fuck._ Bellamy tries to keep from laughing, because Alexander hates that, he thinks it’s being treated like a child, which he loathes. But, it’s hard when a tiny person claims, _“I’m not a kid, dad, I’m eight years old!”_ A snort escapes and Alexander glares at him. He holds up his hands, “Okay, okay. Where’d you meet her? School?”

“A boy was pushing her and making her cry, so I told them to stop. But he didn’t stop, so I punched him.”

_“What?”_

“Yeah,” Alexander says distractedly, and pulls out a crumpled note from his pocket, “You gotta go talk to my teacher tomorrow.”

Bellamy leans back in his chair, “Way to bury the lead, kid.”

“I dunno know what that means,” he replies, matter-of-fact and extremely self-aware.

—

They’re arguing as they stand outside his teacher’s office.

“Look. Just because you can pronounce your own name and you suddenly have object permeance doesn’t mean you’re grown up—“

“—I dunno know what that means!”

“It means you know that when you can’t see something, it still exists.”

“Who doesn’t know that? That’s weird.”

“You didn’t!”

“I always knew that!” Alexander insists, adamantly. 

Someone behind them clears their throat, and when they turn around, a pretty blonde woman is trying (and failing) not to appear extremely amused. Behind her legs, a little girl with the same bright hair is smiling shyly.

Instantly, Alexander changes gears and smiles his polite, everyone-loves-me smile, “Hi, Ms. Griffin.” He waves at the little girl, and says gently, “Hi, Lottie.”

The girl hesitates for a moment and then rushes to his son’s side and embraces him, and holds his hand. It reminds him instantly of a young, afraid Octavia, holding his hand because there were certainly monsters in her closet, and he had to do something about it. Ah. 

And then he looks at Ms. Griffin, who is smiling fondly at them. When she looks at him something sweet opens up in her expression. 

“Charlotte and Alexander aren’t in the same grade but they’re pretty inseparable these days.”

He’d spare them a glance, but he’s too busy staring at his son’s hot teacher. “Looks that way,” he holds out his hand, “Bellamy Blake.”

She stares down at it in amusement before shaking his hand, “Clarke. Nice to meet you.” She’s got a nice smile. Nice lips. Nice voice. Nice eyes. Nice…everything (he’s got to keep his thoughts tame around his son).

Speaking off.

He looks down at Alexander, who is smirking. Bellamy narrows his eyes. The boy mouths, _“Burying the lead.”_

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'll probably get around to updating my other stories in the next month or two. I know it sucks that I've just abandoned them. But real life sucked, then school, and I'm finally at a place where I feel like I can write for fun again. Baby steps, though.


End file.
